#I got into an argument with a little tiny cop

[spinescent]

In elementary school we had a field trip where we went to this fake lil city inside a bigger building. Maybe it was this thing - if it wasn't it looked super similar

Anyways, every little kid got a job assigned to them. I remember there were tiny bankers, cops, and restaurant workers. Probably more but who knows. I was a restaurant worker. Everyone else got to run around and do cute little roleplays and exchange paper money/tickets and shit - the restaurant kiddos had to do actual labor. Like we had to prepare snacks - one of which was food prep gloves filled with popcorn and m&ms? ? - under strict supervision of a couple adults making sure we weren't sneaking any food for ourselves. The lunch periods were divided into three. Each time lunch hit we were taking actual money and do actual math and selling product. We did not have any time to actually run around and do the field trip. I had to work through my little lunch period because of how slammed our tiny little restaurant got. I have no actual ending to this other than I'm occasionally unhappy how much this mirrors the real world, and food prepared in gloves still repulses me.

>:(

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons plus little bonus part 2 electric boogaloo

After Nimona found out about Ambrosius' allergies they demanded to test every single meal he eats 

They’ll take the plate away from him and have a test bite and only after they deem it “safe” will they let him eat it

Doesn’t matter if they're out eating or at home she does this every time 

He can literally say “Nim Bal made this for me it’s not gonna have anything I’m allergic to” and she’ll respond with “You don’t know that he could finally be sick of you and the only thing saving you is me” 

Ambrosius and Bal will share literally everything they eat 

Whenever they go out they’ll usually order something they know they’ll both like 

And if they know the other one is between two options they’ll just order one of the options and share both meals 

It’s a pretty normal thing that they’ve been doing since they were kids so they don’t even question it anymore 

Nimona jokingly calls it sickening as she steals food off their plates 

No one in the trio is neurotypical 

Bal is autistic Ambrosius has ADHD Nimona is a mix of both

Talking to these dorks is absolute hell

It’s kind of like the interrogation scene except it’s not one topic 

They often get sidetracked and lose the plot of the conversation 

They’ll have 10 different conversations at once and only finish like 5

Bal forgets a whole bunch of shit because he has long-term brain damage and Nimona and Ambrosius forget shit cause of the ADHD 

It’s not uncommon for someone to say “Hey remind me to” and then they’ll be cut off by the other person who just says “You know I won’t remember that just put a reminder in your phone” 

Their house is covered to the brim in sticky notes and random pieces of paper for reminders 

The grocery list is on the front door the chore list is in the kitchen and random little tasks are scattered around the house 

When Nimona doesn’t want to do something he’ll just erase his name from that task

He fooled the boys for a while but Bal started keeping score of who did what and when and called his sneaky ass out 

Little bonus part 2 electric boogaloo: this time it’s my sister and my mama and my sister also was acting like I was killing her firstborn not asking her to watch a movie 

Me: “look mama it’s the siblings” my sister: “but they’re gay” me: “yeah but people thought they were siblings” my sister: “if you ever look at me like that I’m calling the cops” (the scene on the catwalk) 

“Yeah you better cheer” (when Bal was getting knighted)

“I knew something was wrong with the sword” “So did Bal” “Yeah but I knew first”

Apparently both my Mama and my sister didn’t know that Ambrosius cut off Bal’s arm so I got to see both of their reactions 

This was my Mama’s “damn what happened to being a lover not a fighter” “he’s a knight Mama” “Who cares!!” 

This was my sister's “Wow really took the whole arm huh?” “That’s how they were trained” “And?” 

My mama was talking to my sister when Nimona met Bal “Who does that remind you of?” “Roo” “Exactly”

 “Oh look it’s tiny dick!” (Talking about Todd) 

“What a fucking bitch” (when she found out the director swapped the sword) 

This was when Bal and Ambrosius were fighting Me: “Is there anything gayer than having an argument in the middle of a sword fight” My mama: “They’ll fight with their other swords later” 

“Who fucking asked” “bla bla bla I’m a racist bitch” (when the Director went on her monologue in the office)

She saw Ambrosius’ username and laughed for like two minutes straight

After the sword fight my sister would pretend like Bal and Ambrosius were making out every time they were on screen together 

“Because I love you *making out noises*” at the tavern 

“Oh there’s their third wheel (Todd)” “Nah he’s racist as fuck” “Who isn’t in the institute?”

When Ambrosius tried to stop the director she said this is what he meant “No you can’t set off the laser that’s my kid!” (She believes the trio is a family too) 

“Awe they’re hugging *more making out noises*” 

She called it cute in the end and I made fun of her for bitching about it

I asked my sister who her favorite is and she says “what’s his name balls?” I started cackling my ass off and she goes “I’m joking I know his name is Ballister and he’s still my favorite”

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Jan 28st - Week 4

Hey, friends and Stevetony lovers! I actually got to read quite a bit this week which was surprising looking back at my list? Anyway. Enjoy it, and be sure to leave a comment/kudos for the author! 

~*~ 

Masked and Anonymous by panickyintheuk

“When Mr. Stark opened the door, he had his shirt untucked, and no shoes on. It was evening, and it was his own apartment, and Steve was dropping by unannounced, so that was all really fair enough, but it was also the least put-together Steve had ever seen him."

Steve drops in on Avengers benefactor Mr. Stark, but it seems that Mr. Stark was expecting him.

This was so cute, Steve was so excited and confused and Tony was just--uggghhh. I loved it. 

Found the place to rest my head by nanasekei

There was blood in the corner of Steve’s mouth.

A tiny slice of hurt/comfort with Tony taking care of Steve? Yes please. 

Good Luck Charm by BlossomsintheMist

Steve’s been reckless on the battlefield lately, and gets himself hurt. Tony worries over him. Steve pines over Tony. Things go unspoken, but they still manage to be there for each other all the same. Maybe what they've always had is still as strong as it always was, after all.

I love how gentle Tony was with Steve AND how hurt Steve was. So often he’s untouchable, and him explicitly responding to pain was a lot and very lovely. 

The Fight by elwenyere

Steve gets himself kidnapped, and Tony is not happy about it.

Always a sucker for the pining idiots in love who only realize it when the other is in danger.

Demon in a Bottle by AvengersNewB

Young alpha Tony Stark picks up his omega, Steve Rogers, from his dad's place, bruised and battered, and he has to do his best to protect his omega from the harms of abusive alcoholic parents.

I don’t read omega Steve often, but this was really well done. 

Transcendental Blues by Carsonian

The best place to be after an argument with your partner is in the collapsed ruins of a building. Having said partner as your only company and being mortally wounded is an especial bonus.

For the prompt fill: trapped together while one of them is injured

This ends very bittersweet? So go into it with your eyes open on that aspect. But it was lovely. 

Limit by Saber_Wing

Steve straightened and took a few steps forward, working his way toward a pile of twisted metal that looked slightly more lethal than its surrounding compatriots. Someone could really hurt themselves on that. Sweat poured off him in buckets, and he blinked it out of his eyes, shaking his head, as if to shoo a fly away.

Big mistake. Steve’s head swam in a way it hadn’t in years, and his vision blurred before he blinked it away, dazed, light-headed, more than a little stunned. He stumbled over a jagged piece of rock; limbs heavy, movements sluggish.

Oh. Oh, wow, he was dizzy.

Steve overworks himself. Tony is not pleased.

So often we see Steve taking care of Tony when he’s overworked himself and putting limits on his work, and this is so good because it flips that dynamic and Tony’s so sweet and angry and worried. 

End Racism in the OTW - Hypotenuse by derryderrydown

Steve breaks up with Tony because he's in love with Iron Man. That's when things start to get complicated.

This was such lovely identity porn, plus the whole Iron Man fucking Steve was. Yeah. THAT never gets old. 

If You Never Say Your Name Out Loud To Anyone by theladyingrey42

Sometimes, Steve has panic attacks.

Or at least he used to. Nowadays, he mostly just has conversations with Tony Stark.

These two taking care of each other. I’ve been reading it for years now and I still can’t get enough. 

All That Is Merry & Bright by askaniblue 

Steve isn't Captain America anymore and he isn't an Avenger, but when he stops by the Tower for some intel he stumbles into the Avengers holiday party. He knows he should leave, but everything keeps pulling him in.

Look. I am such a sucker for Steve as America’s Top Cop and absolutely miserable, while Tony pines and misses him and knows exactly what he needs. That’s pretty niche, I’ll admit, but it’s one of my favorite dynamics and this was PERFECT. 

From You I Cannot Hide by SailorChibi

Being a sub isn’t the worst thing in the world. Being a sub who doesn’t like pain, well. That’s just weird. A sub’s sole responsibility in life is to be anything and everything a dom wants, an open canvas for a dom’s brush, malleable and sweet. Obie taught him that, and that fear ultimately tears him and Pepper apart. So Tony hides his dirty secret and doesn’t sub for anyone now. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting.

I’ve read this before and I still love it. Tony is so damaged and Steve’s patience with him is just. Lovely. 

in the storm, we stay clear by Thahire 

Beside him, Tony’s getting comfortable, too, unknotting his tie with one hand, the other tapping away on his phone. The light from his phone illuminates his profile. Steve forces his gaze way when he realizes he’s been staring at Tony’s mouth for a solid five seconds.

It’s going to be a long wait.

Steve and Tony's car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. It leads to some misunderstandings and then finally some long overdue conversations.

I really love how, finally, trapped together, they communicate. 

We All Need Somebody to Lean On by tnystrk3000

Summary: 5 times Tony fell asleep during movie night and the 1 time he didn’t

Takes place a few weeks/months after the Battle of New York, 2012.

This is such classic 2012 team as family and bonding. I love it, love seeing it in this, 2024. Never change, fam. 

5 times tony indulges steve's strength kink + 1 time he doesn't mean to by meidui

Steve really appreciates how strong Tony is.

It’s always Tony appreciating Steve’s strength, so this was a very nice role reversal. 

Tinsel Rings by NotEvenCloseToStraight

On New Years Eve, an attempt at one-upping Justin Hammer goes awkwardly wrong and Tony suddenly has to come up with a fake fiancee at a moment's notice.

Thankfully Steve Rogers is gorgeous enough and sweet enough to get the job done.

Ahh, Tony getting himself into a mess and find something lasting on accident is perfect. 

***Truth or Dare, Do or Die by itsallAvengers

Honestly? He'd brought this whole debacle upon himself. It was Friends With Benefits rule 101: whatever you do, don't get attached. Don't become too familiar. And do not, under any circumstances, fall in love.

Tony Stark had always been a bit shit at following rules, though.

Hanahaki disease in a way I’d never seen it? Two idiots pining? Soft absolutely smitten Steve? Check, check, check. I loved this so fucking much.

The Most Amazing Things (Some Terrible Lie) by copperbadge

Tony's decision not to reveal his identity as Iron Man to the world was shrewd and calculated. Too bad it's about to backfire on him like a Jericho missile.

I am actually a big fan of Tony not revealing he’s Iron Man in the MCU, and this one is so incredibly well done. 

[itbmojojoejo]

CoP - A Proposal Of Sorts / Sihtric x OFC

Pairing: Sihtric x OFC (Runa)

Warnings: NOT BETA READ, BARELY EDITED. Uhhh fluff? It's definitely not angsty. Just a little conversation really.

Wordcount: 460. (teeny tiny)

Authors Note: Just a little tiny short kinda empty something, I've had the idea of a sequel for Crimes Of Passion bouncing around in my noggin' and this was going to be the opener of the series but I don't know if it will ever happen - BUT - I didn't want to leave this gathering dust in my wip folder never to be read.

Cold night air leaking through the bedroom’s single-paned window bit at Runa’s exposed skin. Sihtric was her only source of heat, lying between her legs, head resting on her chest as she idly played with his hair. 

Twisting his face into her skin he mumbled incoherently, breaking their comfortable silence.

“What was that?” She asked, amused.

Sighing dramatically he propped himself up on his elbow, a smile playing on his lips, “Marry me.”

“No,” Runa laughed, shaking her head. 

A crease formed between Sihtric’s brows, “No?”

“No.”

“Why not? Do you not love me?” 

She scoffed, “You know I love you, but-”

Sihtric cut her off with a groan, “No, no buts,” slumping back down onto her and hiding his face.

“Yes, buts. I’m already considered my brother's burden - property even! I don’t want to do a change of ownership, it’s degrading.”

Quickly propping himself back up he frowned deeper, “You think marriage is degrading?”

“Yes! I can’t work as a married woman, I’ll be expected to become a housewife and a mother and all the shit that goes along with that.” 

“First of all, you aren’t legally employed and you’re paid in cash. I refuse to believe you trust your brother enough to put your money in his bank account. Second of all, I didn’t realise you were such a feminist, that’s a dangerous thing to be.”

Runa laughed again, slapping her hands down on the mattress making Sihtric raise his eyebrows in amusement.

“I’ve killed for you but you think being a feminist is what makes me dangerous?”

Her question had him pause for a short moment. 

“Ok, new argument - you’ll kill for me, but you won’t marry me?”

“How many other women can say that? I think that’s romantic.”

All signs of amusement left his eyes as he shifted from between her thighs, moving to his side of the bed and staring at the ceiling. 

“That’s not romantic. That’s insanity, Runa.”

“Are you mad at me?” She asked incredulously, leaning up on her elbows to look over at him. 

“I’ve just proposed and you said no!”

“I didn’t think you were being serious!”

He turned his head to look at her, his voice calmer, “Would your answer change if I said I was and got down on one knee?”

She stammered unsure of how to answer.

“Probably not,” Runa sighed. 

“Yeah, I’m mad at you.” 

He rolled over and turned the bedside lamp off, plunging the pair into darkness. 

“Sihtric!” She laughed, tugging on his shoulder trying to turn him back. 

“No, go to sleep.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You called marriage a change of ownership. You aren’t a house deed, you’re a woman.”

“Exactly. I may as well be a house deed.”

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 3a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 2662

TW: SVU-typical talk of rape and sexual assault cases.

AN: The prompt was "I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage."

When the jury read their verdict of “not guilty” on all counts, you breathed a sigh of relief and then tended to your client, who collapsed against you in broken sobs.  You got him collected, then you both went out and made a brief statement to the assembled press.  You shook Jeremy’s hand and wished him well, and then you stood a moment in the weak April sunlight.

You descended the steps of the courthouse slowly, one at a time, and thought about what you should do. 

It was late in the day – you could go back to your airless little utility closet of an office and wrap up you paperwork on the case.  Or you could start making your way towards home.  Most of the cops and ADAs went to celebrate or commiserate at Forlini’s, but two blocks up was a charming little Spanish wine bar that most tourists walked right past.  It was right near your subway stop – you could go finish your paperwork there.

You had been a good student in high school and undergraduate, and you’d been top of the class in law school.  The sole subject you struggled in had been math and calculus, so it was fortunate that law didn’t require much higher math beyond calculating what consecutive sentences would add up to.

If you had been good at higher math, you’d know what an inflection point was – a moment when a curve changes from being concave to convex, or vice versa.  Life was full of inflection points – when the path a person could take is changed or decided on.  Most times, the person in question had no idea how their little choices affected the larger arc of their life. 

Take the subway or walk.  Eat the street meat or the leftovers you packed from home.  Go to Fordham law or Columbia law.

Turn right, towards your office.  Or turn left towards home.

Today, you turned left.

********

Barba was livid.  The problem was, he didn’t know who to be madder at:  himself, or Liv, or the rest of the SVU squad. 

He should have known better.  He should have known.  How many times had SVU handed him flimsy cases with circumstantial evidence?  How many times had he sent them away, refusing to even consider a case until it was more solid?

Too many times, and yet here he was – dodging Jack McCoy, sneaking out of the office, creeping past Forlini’s without looking through the plate glass windows, ducking into a tiny wine bar.  Steadying his nerves with a glass of ruby-red Garnacha and just letting the alcohol inflame his temper even more.

Because he should have known better.

And once he worked through his uncharitable feelings about his detectives, he moved on to the irritating new public defender.  If he had been intrigued by you initially, it quickly wore off once he saw you shred his admittedly feeble case.  You caught the social media posts that NYPD didn’t, but that didn’t make you a brilliant lawyer – it just meant you were thorough.  And lucky.  The next time he faced off with you in court, he’d settle the score.  And he’d do it with the same, tiny, infuriating smile you had sported during closing arguments. 

He finished off his first glass of wine and then ordered another, along with a charcuterie tray for one, as if he didn’t already feel like a loser.  He sipped his wine slower and tried to enjoy the notes of plum and juniper.  After his last overdue annual physical (and his doctor clucking over his blood pressure), Barba had downloaded some meditation app that basically charged him $2.99 a month to tell him to close his eyes and take deep breaths.  While he waited for the world’s smallest, saddest charcuterie tray, he closed his eyes and did just that.

He could feel the tension loosen a little bit.  His pulse slowed.  He took another sip of wine and tried to savor it.  Everything would be fine.  He’d take his lumps from McCoy, then he’d march over to the 16th precinct and give Liv a stern speech about sloppy police work.  Then he’d do better, be more vigilant, work harder.

When he opened his eyes finally, his newfound serenity evaporated immediately.  Across the bar, settling into a stool and pulling a stack of papers out of a battered satchel, was the irritating new public defender.  He ducked down and watched you furtively.  You shed your grey jacket.  You ordered a glass of white wine but no food, and you bent over your papers.  Your face was drawn and serious, as if you hadn’t just scored an impressive victory against the district attorney’s office. 

The waiter bringing Barba’s food created a flurry of activity that drew your eye, and Barba saw you see him.  You nodded at him in greeting and gave him a smile, and he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be friendly or to gloat.  He embraced his foul mood as it returned and settled for the latter instead of the former.

He scowled back at you and pointedly ignored you to focus on his food, but not before he saw you carefully gather up your stuff and walk around the bar to join him.  He was unable to be explicitly rude and ignore you, so he sighed and turned to face you.

“You here to gloat?” he asked, and he watched your face turn from casually friendly to guarded.

“I’m not gloating,” you replied.  “I wanted to say it was a good case, and that you did your best.”

Barba scoffed and took a deep swig of wine, polishing it off in one gulp.  “Liar.  It was a weak case, and now you’re gloating.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and watched him as he ordered another glass of wine.  “I’d think that you’d be happy that you weren’t responsible for getting an innocent man locked up,” you said, and your voice was clipped and almost borderline angry. 

He swiveled in his seat so that he could face you directly.  You weren’t wrong, but Barba was still smarting from such a humiliating defeat – especially on a case he shouldn’t have even taken to trial.  He had no one to blame but himself, but the heady red wine was hitting him harder than his usual scotch did, so he snapped back at you.

“Enjoy your victory,” he said, and you narrowed your eyes further until they were mere slits in your face, glaring out at him.  “You won’t get another.”  And then he turned back in his seat to make sure you knew you were dismissed.

He’d feel bad about it in the morning.  You were just some green public defender, some bleeding heart, probably, and likely someone who just eked out a law degree and a license from passing the bar.  And you had kept an innocent man out of prison.  But law was a zero-sum game:  every case you won was a case he lost.

And more than anything else, Barba loved to win. 

-----

It was another month before Barba faced off against you again, and it ended in a draw – guilty on a lesser count, not guilty on the more serious charge.  You’d be able to make a plea for leniency during sentencing.  When court was dismissed, he turned to nod at you, but you deliberately tilted your head in that sometimes-cute, mostly-irritating way you had and ignored him.

The next match up was just two weeks later, and you lost it handily.  Guilty on all counts, and your client was a repeat rapist, but Barba begrudgingly admitted that you gave him a good defense.  The defendant would not be able to appeal based on incompetent counsel.  Again, you refused to look at Barba, but he couldn’t miss the tension that melted from your frame when your client was led out in cuffs.  He realized that you had to defend monsters, and he wondered if you just now realized it yourself.

He got to talk to you a little during those cases, when you both did the mandatory tap dance around possible plea deals.  Even if you were young, you were a fierce competitor, snapping back at his own witty one-liners with sarcastic rejoinders of your own.  Unlike the other lawyers he squared off with, though, you never made it personal.  You never snarked on his suits (like Calhoun), and you never called him a peacock (like Buchanan).  You just threw out obscure case law and legal precedents that he sometimes wasn’t aware of.

Meetings with you left him both invigorated and exhausted.  Like a sudden burst of adrenaline that, when it was spent, made him weary.

He conceded that you knew what you were doing.  You seemed to know the law inside and out, and you seemed to have a supernatural instinct for when SVU was floating a weak case.  Barba wondered what your relationship with Carisi had been like – maybe your ability to see through the squad’s posturing came from whatever had happened between you and the lanky detective. 

Barba asked Liv about it once.  Liv had just shrugged and said that you and Carisi had already been a couple when he came to Manhattan’s SVU, and then a few months later, Carisi had turned up to work with red eyes and rumpled clothes for a long stretch before pulling himself together.

“She was sweet,” Liv said.  “She used to bring in lunch and dinner when we were working overtime.  But she was still in school then, I think.  Fordham.”

Barba pictured you in college student garb, maybe a pair of faded jeans and a Fordham sweatshirt, your face sans makeup and your hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail.  He pictured you bringing in boxes of food for the squad, maybe sitting and chatting with them a bit while Carisi played footsie with you under the table.  He pictured the tall detective walking you out, kissing you and promising to see you at home soon. 

Barba felt a measure of melancholic jealousy for that imagined domestic scene.  He’d love to have a girlfriend who brought him food when he was working late.  More to the point, he’d love to have a reason to even go home instead of pulling late nights in his office.  His mind started to wander to an imagined scene where you brought him food in his office, where he kissed you and promised to see you at home….he shoved that daydream aside violently.  Not you.  Anyone but the irritating public defender who stung and maddened him like a deep papercut that kept breaking back open after he thought it had healed.

He wondered again idly what had broken the two of you up.  Likely being on opposite sides of the law, Barba figured.  Carisi, the cocker spaniel of special victims advocate, and you, an avenging angel of the poorest criminals Manhattan had to offer.

-----

SVU had a new case:  a sixteen year-old, Anthony Forni, was being tried as an adult for sexual assault of a neighbor in his apartment building.    

And a familiar face caught it for the defense.

Barba and Liv were in his office, chatting about the case when Carmen knocked on the door and announced you.  As per your usual routine, you nodded curtly at Liv before zeroing in on Barba like a heat-seeking missile.  You marched over to stand on the other side of his desk, and Barba knew by now not to bother with polite small talk about the weather.  He seemed to have lost that privilege when he rebuffed you all those months ago at the wine bar.

“Counselor,” he said in greeting, and his mentally girded himself for a fight.  Increasingly, your meetings with him were getting tenser.  It was his fault, probably, when he made it personal by calling you “girl wonder” sarcastically once, and you had glared at him so hard that he almost withered under the force of your stare.  Almost.

“The Forni case,” you replied.  “Let’s talk plea deal.”

He scoffed at this and saw Liv start to open her mouth to add her two cents, so he held a silencing hand out to her.  “I’ll take my chances at court.”

The corner of your mouth twitched as you fought a smile.  “You sure about that, Barba?”

“I’d consider rape in the second degree.  Five years, and he goes on the registry.”

“I’d consider forcible touching,” you retorted.  “Probation, mandatory therapy.”

Barba laughed outright.  “A misdemeanor?  Don’t waste my time.”

You held up your hand and ticked off your points.  “One, you can’t prove that my client even had sex with the victim…”

“The rape kit tested positive for lubricant,” Live cut in, and you just rolled her interruption into your list of points without even looking at her.

“Two, the victim is married and is rumored to have a piece on the side, so lubricant is a non-issue.”  You paused for a split second, waiting for another interruption.  Your eyes never left Barba’s; he wondered if you were this intense with other ADAs.  He couldn’t imagine you staring down Callier or O’Dwyer with such passion. 

“Three,” you continued, “Forni’s mother has been fighting with the victim over noise complaints for months.”

“Which gives me a motive for the defendant attacking her,” Barba cut in.

“Which gives me a motive for the victim lying,” you snapped.  “And four, I have reason to believe that my client is himself a victim of sexual abuse.  He needs therapy and support, not hard time with grown men.”

“How noble of you,” Barba murmured, and he saw you clench your jaw.  “But what about support for the victim?  Moreover, what about justice?”

“What’s just about sending an underaged kid to an adult prison?  That’s vengeance.”

Barba shrugged.  “That’s the law.”

“An eye for the eye makes the whole world blind,” you replied, and Barba laughed outright again.  He was thinking, more and more, that you were some sort of bleeding-heart do-gooder after all. 

“Embroider it on a pillow,” he snarked.  “Don’t use it for a basis of legal argument.”

“At least I keep it pithy,” you sassed back at him.  “Your closing arguments are so wordy and long-winded, you couldn’t embroider it on a blanket.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, and Barba refused to look away first.  Instead, he studied your face, smirking a bit at the way your nostrils flared almost imperceptibly as you raged quietly.  Finally, you blinked and stepped away from his desk.

“I’ll see you in court then,” you declared, and you flounced out without another word.  Barba could practically feel the energy in the room shift as you left, like you were a storm front passing by.

He leaned back in his chair and then glanced over at Liv.  He’d nearly forgotten that she was even there.  That was the problem with you:  in court and in these little encounters, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.  Liv, for her part, was giving him that infuriating soft smile she had when she felt like she had some new insight into Barba’s character or inner thoughts.

“What?” he barked, sounding meaner than he intended.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Her smile widened.  “I saw you staring at each other.  I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage.”

“Neither,” he said.  “And stop smiling like that.  It’s just business.”

Liv held up her hands in mock surrender and stood up to leave too.  But the smile never left her face, and she even chuckled softly to herself as she made her way to the door.

“For my money, that looked a lot like sexual tension to me,” she said, and she ducked out of his office before he had a chance to come up with a snarky response.

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 10

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 2.1K

Author's Note: This is the chapter where the story intersects with RE4! This chapter has brief strangulation! Be aware!

Masterlist

August 2004

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you

-Just Pretend, Bad Omens

My feet hit the coffee table, finally getting off of them after a whole day of no rest. I’m pretty sure my calluses have calluses. I realize now would be a good time to shower, and after scrubbing each inch of my sweaty skin clean, I dress in a loose shirt and shorts. After resting on the couch for exactly 3 minutes, I find myself craving the feeling of Leon. The warm wrap of his arms, the heady scent of his cologne. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I decide to pull myself off the couch and step into his room, gently opening his drawers until I find one of his t-shirts. I know he won’t care, but I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding. It’s not the first time I’ve worn his shirts either, but something about this feels different. I’m wearing it by choice. For comfort. Not out of convenience or necessity. I’m sliding the shirt over my head after removing my previous top because I want to. Because I miss him. He left yesterday, and I miss him.

Hours pass, my book open on my lap as mindless TV plays in the background before suddenly, there is a knock on the door. A quick look at the clock shows 10:58PM. Who the hell could be here this late?

Stepping up to the door, I glance through the peephole and I feel my gut hit the floor. Chris and Jill are standing outside. My thoughts begin to spiral.

He’s dead. Something happened and there was nothing they could do. He was MIA and they can’t even find his body or it’s mangled beyond recognition. Every single worst case scenario races through my mind in the time it takes to for me to grip the handle and pull it open.

“Chris? Jill?”

“Hey. We need to talk to you,” Chris says and I feel my heart shatter. No. No he can’t be gone. I didn’t get a chance to tell him…

“Yeah, come on in,” I mumble, gesturing toward the living room.

“How about you grab anything you need and come with us instead?” Jill’s voice is calm, but the tone in her voice implied something serious. Something dangerous.

“What’s going on?”

“Trust me, grab your stuff.” There’s no room for argument. I nod, and move as fast as I can.

They are taking me to a safe house. They haven’t explained anything, Simply saying it’s ‘just in case’. They wouldn’t have locked me in this safe house, this cabin in the middle of the woods, just in case. Something happened. Dr. Dalton has texted me multiple times, telling me he hopes I’m feeling better, having to claim a serious illness. ‘It’s to protect him’ they said.

The game of ‘go-fish’ got old hours ago. Jill is trying really hard to keep my mind off of things without answering my questions.

“Is my sister in danger?”

“No. Want a drink?”

“Why me?”

“It’s just a precaution. What’s your favorite movie? Maybe we could rent it.”

“Is Leon okay?”

“He’s a good agent. I’m sure he’s fine. Do you want to make dinner with me?”

It’s been 3 days, and by this point, I can guarantee that they don’t actually know anything more than I do. They were just put on protective duty.

“Hey,” Chris starts, eyes unsure as they land on me after he steps in from a call. Jill and I both look to him, forks resting on our plates, and I know my appetite has been gone practically the whole time I’ve been here. “Got an update, Jill.” She stands, heading toward him with an apologetic look in my direction.

“I get that I don’t have clearance, but I think I deserve to know why I’ve been stuck here for 3 days!” I shout, frustrated tears brimming in my eyes. Their eyes show empathy, and I know at least Jill wishes she could say something. “Is Leon even okay?” Jill huffs before she abruptly moves to rest her hands on the table. “He’s been radio silent for the last 6 hours.”

“Jill,” Chris scolds, but she brushes him off in favor of looking into my eyes with her intense blue glare.

“We lost comms about 6 hours ago. Haven’t been able to get a hold of him since. Hunnigan is about to send a chopper in.” Finally.

“Who’s Hunnigan?”

“His communication. You could say she’s his ‘guy in the chair’.” I nod in understanding.

“Is he even alive?” The tears spill from my eyes, and I don’t think I have ever been so afraid. He could be gone. Crystal blues drained of everything that I fell in love with. Jill looks at me, and I pray she can at least give me something. Anything.

“We don’t know.” Is this how it feels to love someone? To feel your heart break at the mere thought of them being gone? My head drops into my hands, elbows resting on the table as I feel the terror slide into my thoughts, gripping me with a chokehold and refusing to let go. My stomach twists uncomfortably, and I stand quickly before rushing to the bathroom, the contents of my stomach emptying into the toilet bowl. Jill comes up behind me, rubbing my back softly, and I hear Chris behind me, frustrated.

“You shouldn’t have told her.” Jill helps me to the couch, and I turn on the TV, mostly just to hear something other than my own heartbeat in my ears.

Chris and Jill argue behind me until the door to my right opens, rain from outside pouring in.

“Leon!” The sound that leaves my throat is guttural, mouth dry as tears begin to pour as I launch myself into his arms. Forearms clasped tightly around my ribs as he lifts me and without thinking, I wrap my legs around his hips, face buried in the space where his shoulder meets his neck. I break down in his arms, and I lean back, his cheeks cupped in my palms. He’s clean, like the rainwater was enough to wash away every worry he had left, and dressed in a suit, navy blue with a white button down.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, tears filling his own eyes, the blues melding with the black center until the orbs are a galaxy, pulling me in and threatening to suffocate me.

“I was so scared. I thought you were gone.” The words are barely coherent through my tears and panic.

Then he kisses me. I gasp into his mouth, trying to process the sensations, his lips tasting like whiskey and spearmint and my eyes slide shut. His tongue slides along the seam of my lips, and the moan that escapes is completely unbidden. He smiles into the kiss as his tongue twirls with mine, his hands dropping to hold me up by the ass as he turns, pressing my back against the wooden wall of the cool cabin. He removes his lips, the messy kiss staining both of our lips red and I open my eyes to look at him. Fuck, I love him. Fuck, his eyes…

Are… red…?

“I am.”

“What?” I blink, and in that quick of a moment the hole in between his eyes appears, blood dripping from it.

“I’m dead, sweetheart.” He says, the stream of crimson red running down his nose down to his lips. “And it’s your fault.”

“Leon, I-I didn’t…”

“You distracted me. I was so worried about getting home to you that I stopped paying attention. Hence…” His eyes glance up as if they could see the bullet wound. His tongue darts out and licks the blood on his mouth as his hand comes up and wraps around my throat and squeezes. I gasp, hand coming up to remove it but his grip is too tight, cutting off my air supply. “What’s the matter baby?” He leans in, breath no longer warm and light, but now cold and almost… Sickly… “I thought you liked it when I squeezed you?”

“Lee-” But I can’t finish his name.

“You killed me. So now, I’m gonna kill you.”

“LEON!” My eyes fly open, panic gripping my heart as Jill runs into my view, arms around my shoulders and calling my name. The tears pour from my eyes as Jill pulls me into her arms as I sob into her, arms clinging to her shoulder blades.

“It was a dream,” she assures, hand rubbing softly over my hair. “It wasn’t real.”

“He’s dead.” I wail, heart shattering as I repeat it over and over. “He’s dead.” It’s your fault. “He’s dead.” I’m dead, sweetheart. “He’s dead.” I killed him. “I never got to tell him that I loved him…” I never got to tell him.

The clock hits 11am. 14 hours since they lost contact with Leon. No one has called for updates, so we assume the worst. Jill has taken to running her fingers through my hair - my head resting on her lap - while reading the book I brought out loud, trying to help me focus on it, trying to be comforting in the only way she knows how. She has a beautiful reading voice at least.

“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”

Chris’ phone rings and we all turn to look at it like it alone would destroy all of humanity. He stands and reaches for it.

“Redfield.” A car door closes outside and Chris and Jill lock eyes, both pulling out handguns from their respective holsers. “Hold that thought.” Jill glances out the window shades, before she drops it quickly, pulling the door open in a huff and rushing out. I stand to follow before Chris gestures for me to remain out of sight.

“You haven’t contacted us since last night, telling us about the lost communication with Agent Kennedy! You couldn’t have given us some updates?” I can hear Jill yelling, before she begins to talk at a regular volume, calm overtaking her brazen entrance but making it impossible to hear her. I stand at the edge of the couch, gripping it between my fingers so hard my knuckles begin to ache and Chris stands on the other side of the door, ready for anything to come through that’s not supposed to.

A voice calls out my name. Oh my god.

“Wait!” Chris tries to stop me as I bolt forward to stand in the doorway, chill from the August air brushing against the exposed skin of my legs, revealed by the pink shorts and Leon’s gray RPD hoodie, my socks doing little to protect my toes from the cold.

There he is. He’s dirty, face covered in smudges of mud and what I assume is blood, and there is a bandage on his jaw. His arms are littered with cuts and his right hand is encircled in white sterile wrapping, and beneath the thigh of his black cargo pants - which have a very large hole - there is more wrapping. His eyes practically droop under the weight of the dark circles resting below the multitude of blue swirls, blonde hair stringy and clearly in need of a wash hanging down to graze his cheek.

“I sure hope you didn’t give them too hard of a time, Nurse Nosy.” Tears swell in my eyes at his tone, the final nail in the coffin that it’s him.

“Leon?” He opens his arms just like he always does, and despite the nightmare looming in my brain, I bolt toward him, uncaring of the mud seeping into my socks until my arms are around his shoulders and his are squeezing my middle, lifting my feet off the muddy ground.

“Keeping my hoodie warm for me, sweetheart?” He teases in my ear and I let myself cry, tears streaming from my closed eyelids as I sniffle, refusing to let go of him for the first time since I met him. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart, you’re not wearing shoes.” Given my lack of coherency, my muscles move unconsciously, winding around his waist. His nose in my hair, lips against my scalp, arms tight around my ribs. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Devil Boy (Matt Murdock X Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Matt Murdock X Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers, Daredevil

Warnings: Violence, fighting, Reader is kind of flirty

NOTE: I know requester specified Male but upon checking to make sure I got pronouns right I realised I never actually use any so technically it’s gender neutral? I’m not gonna tag this fem reader tho

Request:Would you write Matt Murdoch x Male!Reader where they keep trying to distract eachother in easy fights?

Matt had managed to catch a short break atop a roof, leaning with his arms on the barrier, listening for the next sign of trouble in the area, over the general sound of people leaving bars and clubs, normal arguments that didn’t need intervention, and police sirens to issues already being dealt with. His senses had been so tuned that he easily heard the person who had jumped onto the same roof as him, walking over, picking up a bit of rubble as they moved, and he easily was able to reach back and catch it before it hit him in the back, and then he heard your laugh.

“Damn, maybe next time.” You joked, coming closer to him as he turned to acknowledge you. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, thought we could catch up.” You suggested. 

“What about your side of town?” Matt questioned. 

“Massive raid right in the centre of it- the place is swarming with cops so there’s silence on that side for tonight, which means more trouble in your territory.” You pointed out to him. The use of territories wasn’t really something that had been made on purpose- it just worked out that you tended to occupy and care for one section of Hell’s Kitchen and he looked after another section, with the other few vigilantes in their own little pockets, sometimes crossing over or passing through. For some of them, having someone else in ‘their’ turf was enough for a fight to break out, but for you and Matt, it was the opposite. 

“In that case, thanks for the back up.” Matt thanked, turning back to look over the side, before he heard something in the distance. “Just in time it seems.” 

“Lead the way.” You instructed, and you two quickly evacuated the roof, you not far behind Daredevil, and just five minutes later you two were in the midst of a fight with a small group who you’d caught in the midsts of trying to rob a store.

Matt was shoved against the counter of the shop, hearing the yelp of the poor teenage clerk behind it who was hiding in fear. Matt reacted quickly, kicking the man to create space, pushing him into an isle and into one of his friends. Meanwhile you were in the back of the tiny store, using a spinning display rack as a weapon. “Please try to not make a mess.” Matt called to you as he strode over to the man he’d shoved, ducking as the man swung before landing his own hits. 

“Bit late- watch out for the magazines on the floor!” You called back, jabbing at one of the men in front of you, catching is jacket on one of the hooks pulling him closer to you before kicking him so hard it knocked him on the ground. Matt landed a final blow to his target, before he walked ahead to put his focus on the man you’d knocked down. “You got the money to pay for all this?” 

“Not on me, no.” Matt answered. “Guess you’ll have to do some Community Service.” He suggested as he took a swing at the man in front of him. 

“Me? We’re a team now, Devil boy, and this is your turf so it’s your duty.” You responded as you used the display rack to block a hit before it broke, and you tossed it to the side, now using your hands in the fight. “I think this should be my community service.” 

Eventually you got the situation under control, the clerk called the cops, you tied the robbers up with some tape the clerk had behind the desk, and gave her what money you had on you as an apology for the distress and the mess, before you took off before the cops arrived, getting a good distance between you and the shop, stopping on the fire escape of a nightclub to catch your breath. “You alright?” Matt asked, leaning back on the steps he was sat on, looking behind him in your direction as you leant on the railings behind him. 

“Yeah I’m good.” You answered, moving sluggishly to the few steps above him, and sitting down there, reaching out and tracing your fingers over the details of his mask. “How about you? It’s hard to see if you’re bleeding with that red suit of yours.” 

“M’fine.” He answered, remaining still for you, being able to vaguely feel your touch underneath the mask, letting a silence fall over you both. 

“Do you think it would have been cheaper for the store owner to get robbed rather than have us show up?” You asked, the question catching Matt off guard and laugh heartily. 

“Well if you’re having a morals dilemma, know that when we protect a place like that, they don’t experience crime for a few weeks afterwards at least, and their business booms in that time because it’s deemed safe by the public, so the money gained will outweigh the damage.” Matt assured. 

“What if someone uses this as a scam- pay criminals to rob his shop in monthly intervals so more people come in the cool down period?��� You asked. Matt grinned at your questions. You always asked these questions, if anything to try and catch people off guard and make them stutter and think, purely to mess with them. He remembered when you pulled it on Castle and for 45 minutes Castle thought you were serious and had a genuine debate about your questions before Jones showed up and interrupted, making him realise you were just messing with him, and now whenever you tried to ask your questions, he’d simply tell you to shut up. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for any shops doing that so we can take them down together.” He told you. 

“Aw, thanks for including me. I’ll consider it a date.” You teased, your fingers tracing from his mask down to his face, twirling around his cheek bone, across his jaw, your finger tracing up his chin, tickling his lips before you booped him on the nose, which only made Matt smile more. “In the meantime, if you need any help, call me, and if I need back up, I’ll call you.” 

“You going already?” Matt asked, not moving as you stood up, brushing yourself off. 

“I’m afraid so, Matty. I’m pretty sure the police are gonna leave my section soon and crime is gonna go back up, so I wanna be there to make sure it’s alright.” 

“I can come with you? Backup?” Matt offered, but the pat on his head told him it was a no. 

“You’re adorable. I’ll see you around, Devil boy.” You told him, before jumping off the side of the fire escape, and running out of the alley. Matt remained sat on the steps with a content smile until he eventually heard someone calling for help.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog​ @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress​ @abbybills22-blog​ @mutantjediavenger​ @theoraekensnotsosecretlover​ @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp  @rebellionofthecattle   @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic   @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Ok so just to make sure I understand this:

the wounds on Y/N’s bacm come from when Moon’s AI glitched. Or did it come from something else that happened before Y/N was on the ship, but only started being taken care of after the issue with Moon’s AI?

I’m kinda bad at fully understanding words sometimes, but I’m loving this AU so much! Your boy here adores space!

(You’re good friend I’ve been making it really unnecessarily vague hhfhfh!!)

The scars on their back come from before they fixed the ship. They’ve been doing miscreant-behaviors for a while now, and sometimes they didn’t always get away from whoever they stole from or humiliated or exposed the lies of! They’ve never been caught by space-cops or put in jail, though! They’re good at last-second getaways. For the most part they’re quite sneaky!

But when they were caught, a lot of the time, the scumbags that Reader dealt with wouldn’t hesitate in beating them to a pulp while they waited for space-cops to arrive. That’s where the scars come from- people who felt justified in beating the tar out of a criminal. They’re all old and healed by the time they meet Sun and Moon.

As for the bandages,

tiny spoiler ahead? Idk it’s not really gonna be a big reveal or anything

The injury on their neck came from Moon. There was an argument, Moon’s bug got set off, and in a high-tensions moment of him losing control of himself and his grasp on reality, he grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and pinned them against a wall.

The bug starts to make Moon overheat, and the hand he has on their throat gets hot enough to burn them severely.

Moon crashes, and Reader faints from the pain. They wake up in the ship’s medical room, Sun having treated and dressed and bandaged their neck. They don’t bring it up, and no one talks about it for a while. Both Sun and Moon feel EXTREMELY guilty about the whole thing, but neither is sure how to approach the subject and so all three of them kind of act like it didn’t happen and the injuries are avoided looking at and talking about as much as possible.

(‘Bad communication skills’ should be the name of their spaceship)

Does Reader blame Moon? Not really, they could tell he wasn’t himself and how he acts after proves it wasn’t a conscious choice to go berserk like that. Are they still pissed off and hurt by the entire shitty situation and the shitty things Sun and Moon said??? Definitely yes

Does having an injury they got during a confrontation with someone who saw them as only a criminal who breaks the law for the fun of it make them on edge around Sun and Moon for a while, ESPECIALLY in having anyone touch their back or shoulders unexpectedly? Yes. That doesn’t mean they think Sun and Moon are like those people that hurt them in the last- the situation is just too familiar and hits a little too close.

I hope that clears it up?? Aaaaugh sorry for being so confusing hhfjdhhddj

[just-some-guy-joust]

Sorry I just learned about this poll people were bullying Benrey????? He's just a funky guy who wants to play games with his friends (one of whom he's massively homosexual for) and wanted to go to the gamestop to get Heavenly Sword from his friend Josh who's the cashier :( and also i have so many reasons for "he's doomed by the narrative" I litlerally made a little drawing of him labelling him as doomed by hte narrative they hate him for his trans generism

Okay here is MY personal opinion on the Benrey stuff because I do want to make it clear exactly why this pissed off every single mod

There were some arguments that benrey was not doomed (if he was not doomed he would not have made it into the bracket), there were some arguments that HLVRAI doesn't even have a narrative at all (when they get to the point where they're scripting events I think that counts as a narrative), but the thing that got me the MOST.

The one that made NO SENSE

Was the people saying nobody should vote for him because of how the character model looks.

"He looks like a cop" "he's made of like five polygons" "he looks like a serial killer" OKAY BUT IS HE DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE. we are not discussing what the characters look like. We are discussing how doomed by the narrative they are.

And 99% OF THE COMMENTS was just based off what he looked like. It was infuriating holy shit

(And also the fact that all of these people saying benrey was a bad vote were also Not giving me reasons why I should vote Jackie instead but that's just because the Jackie fans are fucking mean, I think)

Anyways. Your tiny doodle is ADORABLE he is literally just sitting there I love him

[noxcorvorum]

It's a minor detail in the grand scheme of things but I think John actually had some sort of sensation in the left arm in part 1

He says as far as he can tell he controls nothing besides the eyes, but mere sensation wouldn't count as full control, and that was still early ep 1 so I think he was definitely still manipulative enough that he was keeping as many cards to his metaphorical chest as he could, and then getting beaten by Eddie was enough to give him a little bit of an edge and take control of the hand (he also said that he could "feel Arthur's mind" settling on the decision to kill Eddie, which is a whole other can of worms)

His wording is also interesting to me, because in saying that he "controls nothing else" that would imply he controls the eyes, but he says he can "see through" the eyes, and in parts 8 and 9 where they have a big argument and John stops telling Arthur what he's seeing one of the cops says he's looking around without staring at anything, which says to me that either John's deliberately doing it to be petty and freak out the cop, Arthur has control of where he looks but not the actual vision, or John has retreated as much as he can out of spite, which I think could be possible(???) (and would have Implications) bc when he starts talking again instead of just laughing at Arthur at the end of part 8 there's a bit of static just before he speaks

I also think the process of John getting control of parts of the body is interesting, because he got the eyes, arm up to the elbow, part of the foot in ep 7, and then for 20+ episodes nothing

The eyes are straightforward enough, he got shoved in Arthur's head and that's where he stayed, the general consensus is he got the arm bc Eddie was trying to kill them and John was determined to do something about it but with my earlier point I think when Arthur woke up/took back most of the control he still had a tiny bit of the arm from killing Parker bc its implied he was strangled, and the only catalysts I can think of for the toes was either seeing the death of the lighthouse keeper or falling off the cliff, which I think is more compelling bc he could have been trying to stop him from running off the cliff; but they've been in PLENTY of very near death situations and arguments since, and John hasn't gotten anything else, so how does it work? Is it based on him trying to do something out of desperation? Is there a particular kind of situation that acts as a catalyst? Is it Kayne messing with them??

^ me rn

[kandikidnep]

Hi im thinking too hard about homestuck again :3

When i was in highschool i had a friend (who im still in contact with!! Im 23 now lol) who was an avid Bro Strider defender. They were under the impression that he was supposed to be in his mid twenties during the time of the comic (still unsure of how they came to that conclusion, but hey we were kids) and that his actions are justifiable due to him not knowing how to raise a child bc he was a teenager when dave came in to his life. All of the arguments about that aside, im thinking about that now.

This is all in the format if i were writing an au, and takes place long before any of the events of the comic. Guardians placed near eachother bc fuck you they moved to their separate places after this

A just barely 16 year old bro finding a baby that looks a little too much like him for comfort on a meteor. Ignoring the meteor, what the hell is a baby doing on the sidewalk outside school? No parents to be seen, or really anyone else for that matter (did seriously no one notice a fucking meteor crashing down in front of a high school? Really?) this baby needs a guardian. But, fuck, hes 16. He cant raise a kid.So who does he turn to, his parents? Not with their current child raising track record. Maybe Mr Egbert, or Ms. Lalonde, two young teachers at his high school. But then what if they turn the little guy in to the cops? Bro only knew the harsh treatment he’d recieved from cops whenever he got in trouble. No… couldn’t put a baby with them. Besides, ms Lalonde has been smelling like alcohol recently. Theres the old whackjob down the road, but. He has a lot of guns, and goes on “hunting” trips a lot. No place for a baby. So, not really knowing of any other adults, bro is back to his parents. He thought of all the answers to all of the questions he could possibly think they would ask. “Where did it come from? Are you the father? Did you steal a fucking baby?” He responded to these potential questions While he was walking home, baby carried under his arm like a football. But when he got inside, his parents took one look at the child who, again, looked way too similar to Bro, and kicked the two of them out. They didnt let him get a single word in, almost like they were relieved for the excuse to be rid of him.

So yeah, he kinda hates this baby now. He was just trying to help the tiny dude, but all he got in return was homelessness. So, now what? Run away? Build a life together? Teach this child how to become an anime sword master, just like his dad? Wait, dad? Ew. No. He’ll probably tell the kid they’re brothers instead. But hey, if he ran away with this child he’d never have to deal with school again. That shit sucked. He wasn’t old enough to work in his area, but no one needed to know his age if he ran a website. He knew how to work around computers, and had taken a lot of video editing classes as extracurriculars. Hell, he even knew a bit about puppetry from one of them. Maybe he’d try to make videos… about puppets? I mean hey, sesame street is popular. He knew he wanted to do something less…. Childish though. He’d have to think about it.

Anyways, back to the baby literally in his hands. Kid needs a name. Something easy. Something cool. Bro said the first name to come to his mind, ‘Dave’. The baby gave him a solemn nod when he said the name, and bro knew it was destiny. Wait, was it a solemn nod or was it just a little baby movement that babies do for really no reason at all? Whatever. Destiny is cooler.

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S3E03: Legs

Apparently when we were watching 2x03, I typed something wrong into google and thought THAT episode was titled “Legs”… We even wondered why the episode was titled “Legs”. Turns out, that episode was titled “Great Men” and THIS episode is titled “Legs”…which makes a LOT more sense—2x03 was the episode that Glynn was being a bastard to Miguel for personal reasons.

Anyway, these week’s storylines are as follows:

Gloria goes to the news about the negligence of Garvey and the attempted suicide of Miguel; Devlin does damage control; Garvey is removed from Oz

Stanislofsky arrives at Oz

On Death Row, Shirley suggests to Richie to take Schillinger down with him

McManus visits Snake on Death Row; inmates discuss Coyle; McManus visits Augustus in PC; Coyle is killed on Nappa’s orders; Pierce and Wangler plot revenge

Ricardo issues—feeling abandoned, trouble with Hughes

Said hunger strike continues; wins points

Howell and McManus argument; McManus tries to get Glynn to fire Howell

Murphy becomes the new supervisor of Em City; O’Reily problems; Murphy and O’Reily bond about being Irish; Murphy agrees to give pointers about Cyril’s boxing training

Pasquin vs Pacamo first boxing match (Biker vs Italians)

Aunt Brenda comes to visit Ryan and Cyril; worried about the boxing outcomes, Ryan decides to bribe one of he christians to give him drugs to drug the water bottles; Cyril wins against Robson

Bob diabtes problems; Bsumalis spits in his own food to put off Schillinger; Rebadow meets his son and grandson

Nappa has HIV, moves into Unit E

Keller post stabbing; starts to see Sister Pete; Beecher reveals that he (possibly) (probably) was the one to stab Stabler

Andrew Peter Schillinger arrives. Tobias sighs according to the captions. But it looks like laughter

if my points in this suck an there’s typos it’s because I can’t feel my face rn lol especially near the end of things

Sister: When did she start wearing sweater? She’s turning into the priest guy. They share a wardrobe?

Sister: That means nothing

I always thought it was kind of funny to have Miguel looking so damn cozy in the hospital ward but Sister pointed out that they were probably just doing it to cover Miguel's neck/not wanting to do bruise make up or having failed to do it convincingly

Sister: oh, she’s making one of those Nazi arm band things?

Sister; That guy’s the leader of the latinos now? Me: No Sister: Oh so the other guy is just lazy about showing up to things? Me: Maybe he’s in the hole. Sister: And he has the nerve to tell Miguel he’s not brown enough…

Sister: What’s he going to do with that basket anyway? Me: He could fashion it into a weapon… Sister: Make a trojan horse. An even gianter gift basket that he hides inside...

Sister: Can you be on HBP medication and not eat? Me: I think they just forgot about that

I still don't understand tbh. What’s the implication here? That he’s going to bite off the rest?

Sister: I thought he said 'bitches not around'.... Me: Same

Sister: (rolling around) This is so BORING… you’re not the Joker… Carry ON….

Sister: This guy was a serial killer in Bones. He ate people, I think.

Stray Thoughts

I had forgotten what Stanislofsky’s crime was but I didn’t remember it be Possession of Stolen Good with Intent to Sell lol

Sister thinks the inmates are far too impressed with Miss Sally’s assets; “If they saw real pin up girls their heads would explode”.

Ricardo fucked someone’s cousin at a wake; sex at wakes seems to be a surprising trend in this show

Carlo shirt; same style as a shirt Chico has in season 6. Then again Jaz Hoyt has the same shirt in one episode of s4 or s5 (more likely). I like to think they sell it in the commissary

Tony Masters wearing a shirt that say “I <3 Cops”… Ironic?

Brenda's “You got the devil in you” bit always reminds me of the “Ya just like ya fatha” vine.

TINy LITTLE CHCO CLAPS ( edit: ok my bad, he wasn’t clapping, he was rubbing his hands together like a little housefly)

oh wow Fiona’s unitard had a g-string. work

Narrator says he was a sprinter. Is he speaking as Augustus?

The fact that I managed to not misspell everyone names in this write up (Caught them all, anywya)…. I think I kept calleing Augustus McAllister lol And Elliot Stabler

Jorge is always in the background of Library scenes, I’ve noticed. Literate king.

Not enough Miguel? I kept Rick Dalton pointing at the screen whenever Chico was there because I am 😭 somewhat Inebriated at this point

[kedreeva]

Im so fucking lucky my graphic tablets been rendered unusable by my stupid fucking laptops operating system because pretty people in skirts are one of my Top Weaknesses and i wouodve fucking considered NOT ONLY DRAWING IT but possibly attempting to fucking animate that shit (the hat throw too, becayse YES I HAVE UNFORTUNATELY READ THAT POST) and i absolutely DESPISE animating i am absolutely TERRIBLE at it

LISTEN SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LITTLE SHIT at least like,, only one of them has ever been at my actual flat,, and i only ever made or bought food or otherwise financially or materially supported like,,, half of them,, and only ever played therapist and Adult To Come To™ for like 25 of them,, they mainly just see me on the street and ask me to play with them or stay with them for a bit or whatever anyway now that i think of it depending on how lax our definition of unofficial adoption is i might have like 5 to 10 more but i dont think those count if theyre in a different country and ive completely lost any way of communicating with them,,, right,,? Actually no do Not answer that

YOU DO NOT GET TO COME IN HERE AND BRIBE ME WITH A FUCKING FIC SO I DONT FAIL MY CLASS GODDAMN IT KEDREEVA

Anyway so i know just about NOTHING about the shop except for like 5 mentioms of it in fics but i do have Thoughts on the interpersonal relationship that robin and steve appear to exhibit and i absolutely fully declare that they EMANATE platonic soulmates vibes (maybe qp even if anyones feeling generous just sayin) anyway they are so fucking stupid and they are so fucking smart and they both have one braincell but they can only use it for the other person like one of them only gets to use their braincell if its in place of the others braincell using it for said persons benefit (robin maybe gets tk use half of hers for herself the rest od the time steve only gets a quarter) anyway they strike me as both so very codependent but also very much capable of taking care of themselves but yk yk like thoughts like wheres the line between codependence and relying on another so much simply because they are so Close to you emotionally that they are kind of a part of you anyway is there even a line is there a line and like just idk mate theyre such dumbasses (esp steve) and steve is such a fucking lost puppy (part of why he end up with a full litter of pups ig)

Anyway i do not know much about hopper but i was really rooting for him in this ine fukcing fic where steves parents are being abusive shitheads and hopper gets him thr fuck outta there and him and wayne lowkey fight over custody of steve for a split second but then i found out hes a cop so i was instantly like ehhhh yk what maybe lets not put so much faith in him right away and then i was checking out that cws last night befire watching out of curiosity (NO IS TILL HAVENT SEEN ANY OF IT I GOT DISTRACTED BY AO3 AGAIN TILL 4 AM) and a commenter said that hes a bit of a dipshit to eleven at some point so like hmm mixed feelings dont know enough (ie dont know shit) abiut canon to have any opinions i could back up with aby sort of argument on him specifically

AND YES I DO KNOW WHO DMITRI IS AND I HAVE ONLY SEEN HIS NAME ONCE IN YOUR DAMNED POST KEDREEVA

I know a teeny tiny bit about the russians doing some fucked up shit at some point in the series and steve and robin getting tortured or something (because there was this scebe in this one fic where steve would constantly sneak in through the windoe and sleep eith robin in her bed after that debacle cause neither could sleep or something alomg the lines of that it was SOFT ok it was H/C OK but anyeay ive got NO clue who that fucker really is i imagine him as eithe some average stereotypically russian looking man or like fucking dartagnan but like that twink version of hik dont ask me whats going on in my brain but as i said THOUGHTS and OPINIONS™ (which i am so very unqualified to give)

ALSO I JSUT NOTICED THE FUCKING TAG YOU USED FOR THE ASKS TOU FUXK YOU FUCKER YOU MOTHERFUCKER THATS VERY SWEET YOU FUCKKING FUCKER

And apologies for the novek length ask (hope tumblr doesnt eat it cayse it usually eats any long asks i try to send) and the immense amount of misspellings but i have been outside in the cold for about 5 hours in a thin leather jacket so my fingers are kinda freezing and its also drizzling so ohone slippery

I cannot believe your computer's operating system hates me, specifically, like this. The hat throw is essential I'll have you know. Like he actually really loves the outfit except for that!! fucking!!! hat!!!

I think it's sweeeeeeet! You adopted many children because you are kind and good to them!! You are loved by small innocent beings that recognize you will help them!!

I am justified in offering any bribe I want, tyvm! It's on you if you want to accept it after doing well. I will be proud of you finishing such a big task either way!

Steve and Robin are definitely platonic soulmates! If you watch nothing else of the show, you simply MUST see the bathroom floor scene between them, you will cry over them with the rest of us. I can also advise you see the scene where they're tied up in the Russian holding room, lying on the floor confessing things to each other. Breaks my heart. I love them so much. They deserve cuddles. They DID totally get captured by Russians but I think you're missing the important part. They got captured because they were down in that base on ACCIDENT. Dustin got them into this mess, with help from Robin, and Erica. Steve was practically just along for the ride. And then the Russians CAUGHT THEM wandering around the base, and Steve took 1 look at the situation, decided that not all of them were going to make it, SOMEONE had to get caught and it sure as hell wasn't going to be His Children, so he purposely stayed behind. And when he called out to Robin, because he knew he couldn't hold the door the Russians were trying to get through by himself long enough, Robin (who you MUST understand, she is brand new, she's known Steve for like... a month, she's known Dustin for a day or two, she's known Erica for a few hours, she doesn't even KNOW about the Otherworld Shenanigans yet, as far as she knows this is just about commies in the basement) takes one look at Steve, at Dustin and Erica, and she bolts to his side knowing full well she's gonna get captured, too. But they are gonna make sure the kids don't. together.

Hopper is COMPLICATED. He's an asshole, no mincing that. He was a child soldier, or close to it, who was experimented on w/ chemical warfare bullshit that ensured his military-group companions either couldn't have kids or their kids were messed up and died as babies. Hopper fell in love and had a child, a little girl, who died when she was little (five or six-ish?), and it broke him, and him breaking also broke his relationship with his wife. Over the course of the show you get to witness that he desperately, desperately, just wants Family (and by god, who does THAT sound like) and to make sure no kids are ever harmed if he can help it. He was serving as chief of police because he didn't really know what else to do with himself, and then The Horrors happened and he realized oh fuck my mission in life is to protect El (and what that looks like varies, because what he WANTS and what he is CAPABLE of doing are separated by a canyon at times, he is a disaster of a human being but he's trying and they love each other even when they're screaming at each other) and make sure none of these dumbasses get hurt around her. And then he goes and falls in love with the mom that loves her kids more than life. Like, don't get me wrong he's still a dick. He's just also full to the brim with love. And they killed him in season 3, but he's fine now.

Dmitri, my beloved. he was the prison guard that was trying to save Hopper and help him escape the russian prison he'd ended up in due to nonsense.

I went and personally grabbed this screenshot from my own copies of the show, just so I could show you his smile upon realizing that Hopper starting a fight w/ him so they could beat the shit out of each other was actually NOT because he hates Dmitri, but so that he could grab things off the guards that separated them, so they could use those things to fight monsters with together. Oh!!! They are still friends!!!

anyway I want them to have upside down shenanigans instead of russian prison shenanigans. they deserve to fight each other and monsters. I want married couple bickering. I want them to hate each other for a while, but band together to fight off worse threats, but fall back to fighting each other after. I want... one of them to be injured and the other has to take care of them because they don't wanna be alone. "I'm the only one that can kill you, dickhead."

I'm sorry I didn't get to this sooner, I went and did responsible things like write my nanowrimo story and tend my birds and clean some stuff. But you gave me smiles all day, and I appreciate that, you are lovely <3

[angelbluediary]

I have to leave soon, but I need to get my thoughts down.

There’s a TikTok going around of a young woman who got labiaplasty and is encouraging others to do the same, to become “prettier.” She says she did it because her boyfriend hated how her vulva looked before. She uses language like “roast beef/beef curtains” and encourages the men in her comment section saying they’re going to “make” their girlfriends do the same.

I’ve seen opposing takes on this video—the initial pushback, and then the pushback to the pushback crowd, arguments that people should do whatever they want with their body and that there are perfectly valid medical reasons (as well as cosmetic) for genital alterations.

Which, of course! To each their own. But this was not her own. This is violent misogyny. This is shaming and derogatory. This is for porn standards and immature boys. Maybe there were medical reasons as well for her decision, but if so, she doesn’t note them—she did it to appeal to a harmful beauty standard. And in a world where the Husband Stitch is still, horrifyingly, a thing, this is VIOLENCE.

We all—especially young women—are already practiced in the art of daily violence against ourselves.

I don’t know if I have body dysmorphia. It’s a strong term and is often misused so I’m hesitant to claim it for myself. What is body dysmorphia, and how does it differ from typical insecurities? Is body dysmorphia to blame for not being able to embrace my self image in my mind’s eye? For the fact that I have to bestow myself with different features mentally each and every time I get myself off? Is it the reason why, when I fondle my boobs, I have to do so in a way that they feel bigger, plumper, like a completely different set? Is it the reason why I mentally erase my labia minora when I picture any kind of sexual fantasy? It’s as if my body cannot, at least in my mind, provide visual pleasure—to be a stimulating vision in the middle of getting railed from behind, my vulva has to be “tidy” with little or no apparent inner lips.

My livelihood is built upon catering to sexual fantasies and creating content and putting on explicit shows. And after years of it, I still feel like my vulva isn’t worth showing off. I still feel a degree of biting shame when I get fully naked and expose myself to my viewers. Not the old shame of conditioned modesty. Shame that it’s not pretty enough. That I’m not sexy enough. A choking feeling that my vulva “is not me.”

How much of that is derived from the fact that mainstream porn shows ONE type of vulva? Or that every amazing NSFW artist I love showers adoration upon only tiny labia minora? It fractures my heart a little every time I discover something, someone new who screams sex to me, is so lovely, so beautiful, so alluring, and then their vulva—well. Of course. Of course they are perfect. And then the awful resentment follows, no matter how much you berate yourself, because logically it makes no sense to turn your self hatred towards others who have “superior” features. Saying “we’re all beautiful in unique ways” until my voice cracks in the hopes I’ll finally apply this to myself.

When I see women say things like “my pussy is so perfect,” I have to move on quickly before bitterness overtakes me. I cannot relate. I want to. I wish I could make similar comments and mean it. I wish my self love was unconditional and all-encompassing. I wish I hadn’t spent so much time over these past few years actually contemplating going under the knife for a procedure that isn’t even recognized as a word by my phone.

It’s a cop-out, but I always think about how much of a better performer I’d be if my labia were just sized differently. How much more confident and fun and popular I’d be. Because as long as I’m secure in what’s being uploaded to the internet, I don’t care how much is on display. If I truly thought I had the prettiest pussy in the world, I would show it off without reservations.

I don’t want to make myself uncomfortable by pushing past my own boundaries, but I’m also scared of growing older and regretting not scratching my exhibitionist itch as much as possible while I was young.

[the-inkwell-variable]

NaNo Snippet -- Day 5

(a day late, forgive me <3)

“C’mon, Harls, let’s get our shoes on."

The toddler examines her shoes with a studious expression.  "We hafta take them off when we go inside."

"Yup."  Anaïs knows where this is going.  For some odd reason, Harleigh hates wearing shoes.  When she was a baby, she'd kick and scream and claw at anyone trying to put shoes on her pudgy little feet -- but she is three now.  She learned fast that asking questions and applying logic was far more effective than a tantrum.

"So why?"

"Because it's cold and rainy.  Do you want wet socks?"

"No!"

"Then you gotta put on shoes."

Harleigh examines the offending shoes with deep contemplation etched across her tiny face.  After several seconds, she lifts her gaze to her aunt's and offers her decision with the solemnity of a judge delivering his verdict:  "No."

It takes every ounce of willpower Anaïs has within her to keep the frustration from her face.  "Then I guess you're gonna have cold wet socks all day."  Harleigh silently pulls a pair of warm woolen socks from her coat pocket and offers it like a silent sacrifice.  Anaïs snatches them with zero hesitation.  "Nope.  Only one pair of socks per student.  That's the rule."

Her face scrunches up -- just because ishe figured. out that logic was more effective didn't  tantrums are completely off the table.  "That's -- that's not -- "

"Life's not fair, cupcake."  Anaïs ruffles her hair affectionately.  "I'm gonna go check on your mom.  If your shoes aren't on by the time I get back, you're going in socks, capiche?"  If the child has any more arguments, she isn't going to stick around to hear it.  She steps into the living room where she left Ana snoozing in front of the television.  Ana is very awake now, leaning forward, transfixed by the screen.  "You good, Ana?"

"Annie, that's Matt."

"Huh?"  Anaïs steps closer to the television.  What ishe sees makes her blood run cold.  A scrawny man is being led out of a modest house by two burly police officers.  He doesn't seem intimidating at all -- the cops each stand a full head shoulders above him, and he seems to weigh only as much as a single one of their arms.  A  beam of relaxed joy splits his scruffy beard in two.  He, at first glance doesn't seem all that dangerous.

Until the camera zooms in and she realizes his shirt isn't supposed to be red, nor is his face blotchy from a skin condition.  His brown hair isn't dreaded, it's matted in thick clumps.  His right eyelid droops, which only serves to make the maniacal calm in his left eye gleam that much more brightly.  There isn't a single spark of malice in his smile -- which is exactly why it fills her with a chill of dread so cold that ishe pulls her coat tighter around her.

Ana is right.  That is Matt.

"-- heard the screams and called the police.  According to Sheriff Parsons, White seemed confused as to why he was being arrested."  The camera cuts to an overweight man in a khaki brown police man's uniform.  He constantly fiddles with his bushy mustache as if it is the one thing he has left to connect him with reality.  “The suspect didn’t seem to understand that his wife was dead, not sleeping.  When we asked him why he did it, he explained that she had body dismorphia and he had ‘fixed her problem’ by ‘giving her the body she always wanted’.  He keeps asking over and over if she got the tacos he ordered for her and ‘if she seems happy.’  He’s being evaluated for psychosis as we speak.  Honestly...I don’t know if I should hate him for what he did or feel sorry for him.”

“That’s Matt White -- he was in my math class in high school.”  Ana is white as a sheet, mimicking Anais’s movements by pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.  “He was… kind of one of the bad boys, you know?  A real rebel.  You could cut yourself on his edge.  He was harmless though… I can’t believe he would do something like that.”

Anais shakes her head at her older sister, truly unnerved by the expression on her face.  She looks haunted, almost forlorn.  Like she’s mourning her former classmate.  Like he’s dead.  “People change, Ana.  Plus, the sheriff said he seemed like he didn’t know what he was doing.  Maybe he was on drugs or something.”

“The worst he ever did was weed though…”

“Like I said, people change.”  Anais forces a bright smile, even if she feels hollow and cold inside.  “Change the channel.  You should watch something dumb and silly.  What about that one dancing show you like?  I think they’re running old episodes on channel 37.”

“...the world is becoming a scary place, Annie.”  Ana fumbles with the remote and flicks mindlessly through the channels.  “I don’t feel safe raising my kids in this world anymore.”

Anais doesn’t respond.  She doesn’t know how.  She simply walks out of the room to check on Harleigh.  Apparently the ultimatu worked -- the child may be pouting next to the front door, but she is wearing shoes.  “Hey, you got your shoes on all by yourself!  Good job!”  Even though she is still deeply unsettled by the news, she has to put it out of her mind.  Ana's going to be obsessed with this for a while.  Anaïs has to pick up her stack.